


Wounds

by ravenreux



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenreux/pseuds/ravenreux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words were murmured, but desperate somehow, and she blinked her gray eyes slowly when she recognized that all encompassing tension of need-reassurance-need, was mirrored along the muscles of his shoulders and the line of his angular jaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Pain

The wound on her bicep was throbbing, reverberating along her nerves to pulse inside her skull. The over-the-counter painkillers she’d taken had done little to quell the pain permeating her body, and she was left lying tense on Trowa’s small sofa.

She must have whimpered her discomfort because he turned to look in her direction from where he was washing her bloodied shirt and jacket in the kitchen sink. Even from across the room, she could see the concern in his vibrant green eyes. 

Middie watched him wring out the water-logged clothes and burrowed deeper into the faded quilt he had given to cover her nakedness- she had mulishly refused a shirt after attempting to pull one over her bloody bandaged arm sent agonizing fire along the limb. She tracked him as he padded barefoot across the small trailer and into the small bathroom, fixated on the muscles of his back beneath the thin undershirt he wore.

Middie pulled the blanket up to hide her face as she recalled she had clawed at that vast expanse of warm, satin skin only a few nights prior, convulsing with euphoria. Groaning against the flare of her libido, she buried her flushed face deeper into the pillow and attempted to ignore the sudden ache that swamped her. 

Silent as a shadow, it was only the faint disturbance in the air in her immediate vicinity that alerted her to his appearance at her side. One large, long-fingered hand caressed her hair as the couch dipped further under his weight as he sat beside her prone form.

"You should be sleeping." His deep voice was warm and mildly laced with worry. "Are you in pain?"

Middie hunched under the blanket and fought against sighing contentedly as his digits massaged her scalp. “I got  _shot_. What do you think?”

"I’m sorry." His hand slid down from her hair to cup her cheek, faintly amused at her pout. "Those are the strongest meds I have."

She jerked the blanket away from where she held it up to her chin to stare icily at him. “My arm feels like it’s going to fall off and there are elephants tap dancing in my skull.”

"I wish there was something else I could do to ease your pain, but I can’t exactly take you to a hospital."

Middie scowled and inwardly cursed her predicament yet again. Stupid hospitals and their policies to report gunshot wounds. ”I know that.”

She couldn’t help the growl in her voice, but Trowa didn’t seem all that affected by it. He continued to gaze softly down at her in that calm, unnerving way of his from behind the curtain of his bangs, and Middie distinctly remembered the intensity of those green eyes when he’d shattered her with his touch. 

She sucked in a heavy breath and felt her body fall prey to a different sort of throbbing.

Trowa must had correctly read the glimmer in her eyes because that intensity was suddenly back in his stare, and Middie was unable to keep from lurching up to fuse their lips. She kissed him roughly, insistently, pulling the hand cradling her face down cup her breast, the blanket having since fallen away from her abrupt actions.

"Middie," he murmured between hot lips and dueling tongues. "You’re injured."

She dropped her mouth to the underside of his jaw, urging his slackened fingers into kneading her flesh, lust adding to her pain-addled delirium. “I know.” She ran her tongue along his jawline to gently take his earlobe between her teeth, whispering heatedly. “But it’ll dull the pain for a little while, Trowa.”

It seemed the use of his name continued to trigger something primitive in him because his reluctant grip tightened, and she struggled to breath through the sensations he was suddenly invoking with his mouth sucking intently at her throat. She shuddered as his other had finally joined in to wrap about her back to ease her back horizontal, conscious of her wounded arm, and she reached between their rapidly warming bodies to fumble with the button of his jeans. Trowa, for his part, seemed determined to make coherent thought impossible when his tongue replaced his hand on her breast.

Middie writhed impatiently and groaned against the heady feeling swamping her sensations. She realized she was trembling from more than simple anticipation, as the combined tension of fear and relief lifted from her frame to be replaced by a vicious  _need_  that numbed her grip.

He noticed her flailing fingers at the waist of his jeans when she unconsciously shoved at him with thighs wrapped in his borrowed sweatpants, and grasped them with his own, gently setting them aside. The disappearance of his attentions as he moved away brought her dissolving brain back into focus, and she watched breathlessly as he tossed the blanket aside. He made quick work of the already loose sweats, ignoring his own clothes, and Middie realized too late what he intended as he shifted back on the cushions in order to move his delicious mouth in line with her lower body.

"Trowa," she attempted to squirm away, but his strong hands held her hips in place. "I thought-"

"Sssh." His lips burned twin paths along her inner thighs. "Let me do this for you."

His ridiculously soft chestnut hair dragged along her tingling skin as he angled his head to meet her anxious gaze from where he hovered above her sex. The lone green eye she was privy to was dark and swirling with more emotion than her blood-soaked soul deserved, that she was terrified to name as her objections began to falter.

"But, I-" He nuzzled against her and she struggled not to mewl like sated cat. " _Trowa._ ”

"Trust me."

The words were murmured, but desperate somehow, and she blinked her gray eyes slowly when she recognized that all encompassing tension of  _need-reassurance-need_ , was mirrored along the muscles of his shoulders and the line of his angular jaw.

The revelation ignited a bewildering burn in her eyes and Middie ceased her hesitating, sagging back into the couch with a nod and a shiver as his thumbs massaged soft circles into the hollows of her hipbones. His request, stated so simply despite its implications, repeated over and over in her mind, and it knocked her thoughts so off-kilter that she was left gasping when his tongue finally lapped at her folds. 

"Shit, Trowa."

Middie dropped her head back on the worn cushion, nerves feverish as his horribly unfair mouth had her back arching and thighs flexing. She felt alarmingly exposed laid open like this; the inherent vulnerability of the act left her steering clear of it as stridently as possible and seeking encounters where she never relinquished control. 

But here she was willingly brushing aside her ingrained fears to this taciturn, enigmatic man because shewanted to, because his very presence lent her a balm for her wounds in a way she never thought possible.

Her formerly lax fingers found new life snaring in his thick hair, anchoring herself to him further, and Middie rode the waves of pleasure until they broke her, tears finally slipping free from her closed eyes from the strength of her release. He kissed the taut expanse of her belly, mumbling unintelligible words to quiet her sobs and bundling her back up in the blanket as she drifted into an overwhelmed and exhausted sleep. 

She drank in his face beneath drooping lids and surmised that he would never quit contradicting any of her preconceived notions on  _anything_. It also didn’t come as too great a shock when she realized she was completely fine with yielding her white-knuckle grip on control to him because he would shield her as fiercely as she had done when he’d been caught in the line of fire. 


End file.
